


You Can't Outrun Yourself

by smoakmonster



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Arrow AU, Arrow AU: Covert Affairs, F/M, olicity - Freeform, olicity au, olicity one shots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 06:54:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2956505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smoakmonster/pseuds/smoakmonster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rookie Agent Felicity Smoak slowly but surely becomes acclimated to life as a CIA operative. Her greatest fear? It's not interrogating terrorists or stopping bomb attacks. No, her greatest struggle is that she's developing feelings for one Agent Oliver Queen, who also happens to be her handler.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Can't Outrun Yourself

Felicity wasn’t sure what she was expecting when she arrived at Langley her first day, but he was certainly not it. She’d gotten a few looks from men as she’d entered the building. But the one guy who couldn’t actually see her had made her jaw drop. He was tall and handsome in that vest, patiently waiting for her near the front doors and holding some kind of green laser pointer. She recognized the gadget as a walking sensor: its highly accurate wide range of depth perception kept the user from having to move the device around in circles like a regular walking stick. Just a simple point and shoot, and a blind individual could perceive up to ten feet over 180 degrees.

He stirred when she approached. His head tilted her direction, almost meeting her eyes, like he could sense her presence. Had his ears picked out her one pair of heels in the crowd? “Agent Smoak?” he asked her right shoulder.

Felicity smiled, holding out her hand, which he didn’t take. “Felicity. I mean yes. I mean, who are you?”

His lips twitched. “I’m Oliver Queen. I’ll be your escort.”

Felicity felt herself blush at his words and was immediately grateful he could not, in fact, see her face. Clearing her throat, she asked, “So Langley sent a blind guy to lead me to my desk?”

He laughed, shaking his head. “This place does love irony.”

He was pensive as they walked side-by-side down the long white halls of Langley. Felicity noticed just about every girl within a thirty-foot radius turn in their direction. Too bad Walking Attraction couldn’t see all his potential prospects. The only time he said anything was when they passed the small Starbucks. “Fair warning: avoid this place during peak hours of 9 in the morning and 2 in the afternoon.”

Felicity raised an eyebrow. “I’m guessing you’ve had some bad experience?” 

"I may or may not have spilled a latte on my laptop. Lost a lot of classified documents."

Felicity giggled. “Well, you should have me take a look. I can probably salvage most of it.” Her words seemed to brighten his entire countenance. For a moment, the brooding was gone.

She met her boss, the head of the DPD, Moira Queen. Moira appeared nice despite her fierce and reserved shell. Then she met her boss’s _boss_  and also  _husband_ , the Director of the NCS himself, Walter Steele. He was friendlier, taking a genuine interest in what she had to say, letting her prattle on for an embarrassing length of time, just nodding along to technical sentences that clearly went over his head.

(Felicity didn’t even want to try to understand how the two of them made it work, having to keep secrets for a living and one working under the other. It must’ve been very complicated. And yet they seemed naturals. After her first few weeks, Felicity simply couldn’t imagine Moira and Walter not being together. Moira was also harder on Oliver than anyone else in the building. She may have been his mother, but there was very little warmth between the two of them. If it weren’t for the last name giveaway, Felicity would never have guessed at them being related. Other than blonde hair, there was almost no resemblance in looks or behavior. Felicity soon heard all the rumors regarding how the Queens had become so frigid with one another: some said she was responsible for him losing his sight, others said Oliver blamed her for an operative girl he’d lost in the field years ago. But she wasn’t sure what to believe. This was the CIA, after all. She preferred to learn the truth from either Oliver or Moira, whenever the secret-keeping masters decided to tell her.)

Despite Oliver and Felicity having rather polar opposite dispositions, the two became fast friends. Felicity learned not to take his unenthusiastic, grunt responses personally.  _That was just Oliver_ , everyone told her. She was able to recover wrecked hard drives and files for him that even the best forensic experts had deemed “destroyed.” When he’d shown her his “latted” laptop, she’d snorted. The bullet-riddled screen didn’t fool her. Did he think  _she_ was blind? Then there was the virus that took over his desktop because he’d “accidentally” stumbled onto a porn site. (She didn't even want to try to understand that one.) And then of course there was the time his phone fell into the river. Honestly, it was amazing Langley continued to let him anywhere near electronics at the rate he attempted to destroy everything digital.

In spite of himself, Oliver started looking forward to Agent Smoak’s daily techno babbles. When he was exceptionally bored, he’d fabricate a well-articulated reason to need her assistance, just so he could get the daily Smoak scoop. Normally chatter annoyed him, but hers he found charming. No one else talked to him the way that she did. She didn’t seem to care if he didn’t respond right away or at all, and he enjoyed listening to the fluctuations in her angelic voice. Not to mention the hacking she did was probably helping him keep his job. He soon became convinced that the rookie had already saved his life more times than he had saved hers.

"Felicity, you’re remarkable," he said one day, startling her. It wasn’t like she’d done anything particularly major. Just a simple microchip trace that had taken about thirty seconds (which was twenty seconds longer than Felicity would have liked). But it seemed to make his entire day, so Felicity played along.

"Thank you for remarking on it." It was high praise, after all, coming from Agent Queen, whose general definition of a compliment fell somewhere between sarcasm and cynicism. While Oliver was usually bitter with the world and everyone in it, he was always different around her, soothing, more like a person and less like the robot the agency was attempting to turn him into. They starting going for drinks together every Friday night. As friends, of course. They were  _just_  friends, she had to remind the bartender.

Besides, it wasn’t like Oliver Queen was interested in her in that way. She saw the way women looked at him, and occasionally she’d catch that smug smirk he tried to hide from her. Oh, he knew he was a catch, even if he couldn’t visually appreciate who was trying to reel him in.

One day they were having lunch together, and two long-legged brunettes passed their table and flirtatiously waved at him. When he obviously didn’t wave back, Felicity tried to stifle a giggle, nearly choking on her pasta at their angry and disappointed expressions.

“Something funny?” he asked her in between bites.

“Just life playing a cruel joke on unsuspecting women.”

“Hmm.” He pursed his lips and nodded. Leaning in closer, he raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess, those two brunettes that just walked by here?”

Felicity felt her jaw drop. “How do you know that?”

He grinned shamelessly. “I thought I recognized those shrill voices.”

“Yeah, but how do you know they're brunette?”

He just shrugged. “Call it a hunch. I can tell a lot about a person by the way they sound.”

“Really? And can you tell what color  _my_  hair is by my voice?” Felicity twirled the spaghetti around her fork.

He chewed for a second, pondering her question. Just when Felicity thought she’d bested him, though, he leaned in even closer to whisper in her ear. “That depends, Smoak. Which color do you want? Your  _real_  hair...or the blonde you dye it?”

Felicity’s mouth went dry. After a moment she squinted her eyes. “You brailled my file!”

He chuckled. “Brailled? Did you just make up a verb?”

Felicity leaned back into her chair, crossing her arms. She was currently too furious to form a coherently witty reply.

“Don’t worry, Smoak,” he teased. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

And Felicity couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. She probably looked like an idiot the way she was beaming. Yeah, Oliver Queen was definitely off limits for a myriad of reasons, the most obvious being the fact that he was the go-to agent when it came to missions involving  _seduction_. His blindness mixed with the looks of a superhero and a smile that was simply stunning made for an intoxicating combination. Women were simply  _drawn_  to him. Oliver seemed to get top-secret information without even trying. He told her once that his record was 37 seconds. Felicity just shook her head at that, which of course he couldn’t see. So she’d swatted his arm playfully. She proudly noted that she’d de-encrypted blueprints in under 12 seconds. He had counter-argued that  _people_  were harder to read than computers. He was right, of course.

One week they had a challenge to see who could complete a mission faster. Helena Bertinelli was the target. They needed to learn the location of her father, Frank, whom the CIA thought was plotting a terrorist attack. Oliver used his “flirty-flirt,” as Felicity deemed it, slipping a certain piece of tech onto her phone so Felicity could hack into her father’s records. Turns out, Helena was the mastermind behind it all. No sooner had Felicity figured it out then Helena had made Oliver.

When Felicity heard the gunshot, she’d feared the worst. Thankfully, Oliver’s instinctive tactical training saved his life. He’d heard the safety turn off and managed to dive fast enough, so the bullet missed any major organs. Now there would just be another scar for his collection.

As soon as the CIA team had arrested Helena, Felicity ran into the room to get Oliver. He was pulling himself up off the ground, blood running down his left arm and soaking through his unbuttoned shirt. Without thinking, she ran to him, nearly knocking him over in surprise.

When he groaned in pain, she sharply pulled back. “Oh. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Gently, he drew her back into his embrace with his uninjured arm.

“I…I thought I lost you,” she whimpered into his chest.

“Hey, shh.” He soothed her, running his fingers through her hair. “You’re not gonna lose me. I’m here.”

“Promise me,” she breathed against his skin, tightly wrapping her arms around his torso. She knew it was a foolish request. No one in the CIA could make promises and keep them. Oliver just rested his chin atop her head. She helped him to the ambulance stretcher, holding his hand the entire way to the hospital. They decided the match was a draw.

By her fourth month in the CIA, Agent Smoak had proven her value as an operative. She became extremely popular after she hacked into a Russian prison to save an agent and single-handedly stopped a bomb on site from going off in a London Subway. 

During a Monday morning briefing, Oliver brought up a strategy Felicity had suggested. Felicity blushed a deep scarlet listening to Oliver sing her praises. When she made eye contact with Moira, the woman looked at her in a way she hadn’t before. Even from across the room, she felt something new pass between them. There was almost a glimmer of humor forming behind those aloof eyes. Moira approved of the idea Oliver (and Felicity) suggested, and the op turned into quite the success story. After that, Moira Queen held new-found respect for Agent Smoak. Felicity clearly possessed valuable intellect, but more than that, she had somehow managed to get her son to not only speak during a meeting, but to also offer  _positive_  words regarding the agency. Moira viewed Felicity Smoak as a gift the CIA sorely needed, so she pushed Walter to only assign her the absolute  _best_  and safest missions possible.

Walter Steele was also pleased to observe how quickly Felicity had picked up interrogation. Her size and demeanor proved to be a rather surprising asset to her method. Terrorists and spies underestimated her. Felicity could read expressions like pages in a book, always managing to tell when people were lying. Walter knew Agent Queen deserved a lot of the credit for turning a rookie into a spy. Queen, of course, refused to accept any credit whatsoever.

Still, Walter made sure to assign him as Felicity’s partner on pretty much every field job that came her way. Occasionally, Oliver got sent with her, when a mission was particularly tricky. Oliver was a skilled tracker, and Felicity loved to watch him work. He could pick out  _one person_  from a crowd even though he couldn’t see a thing. Like a bloodhound, his senses held pin-point accuracy. As Felicity became more advanced in the field, Oliver stayed at Langley and was the voice in her ear through the comms, instructing her with quiet intensity. He didn’t say much. He trusted her instincts. But when he did speak, it was always exactly what she needed to hear. Still, Felicity always felt safest when he was present with her on missions.

Agents Smoak and Queen challenged and complemented each other well. Where she was naive, he was wise. Where he was rigid, she was flexible. On days he was particularly moody, she always managed to get him to crack a smile. On days that she felt she’d “failed” to do her job, he offered her a comforting hand on her shoulder and words of encouragement. Oliver was the only person who could help her move past her failures. Despite the chaos and the rules, they would look out for each other. He, along with former military pal John Diggle, taught her combat and expanded her self-defense training. Whenever Felicity needed to practice interrogation, Oliver was just a phone call away. But, as was becoming quite the routine, he was usually just an arm tap away. They had dinner together pretty much every other week. And when they weren’t having dinner, he always called her. Just to check in. “See you in the morning, Smoak,” he’d always say, and she could hear the smile in his voice. She tried to ignore the fluttering in her stomach as they said goodnight, but with every week, it was becoming increasingly more difficult. What they had was strictly platonic, of course. She could  _not_  afford to get involved with a fellow agent. Moira and Walter might have made it work, but she didn’t see how she could, especially with someone like Oliver.

Somewhere between her first week at Langley and nine months into their partnership, Felicity had become more than just his IT girl, and in return he had become more than just her mentor. He was her best friend, her one confidant in a place where lying was just part of the job. They made a promise to always be honest with each other. 

During a particularly grueling self-defense session, he’d tripped and fallen on top of her.

"You ok?" His ragged breathing hit her in the face.

Felicity swallowed, unsure of how to answer that one. “Mm-hmm.” She pressed her lips together, trying to ignore the way his body pressed against her sent her heart racing. The fall hadn’t hurt. But  _this_  proximity was something strange and wonderful and intoxicating and  _familiar_  all at the same time.

“You’re really sweaty,” she said simply, hoping that would encourage him to move.

Except it didn’t. If anything, her remark was the reason there was a hint of a smile now forming at the corner of his mouth. Something new sparked behind his eyes, and he tipped his head, lowering his face closer to hers and...oh, God. Was he going to kiss her?

Before Felicity realized what she was doing, one of her hands came up and rested on his bare back. Her fingers slid down his spine until she felt the outlines of one of his burns. His whole body suddenly went tense, and he shifted away from her touch.

She tried to apologize for clearly upsetting him, but he quickly rose, leaving her lying on the mat. Felicity slowly sat up, watching him run a towel over his body. Uncontrollably, she licked her lips as he started pounding away at a dummy. His movements were strong and yet bizarrely graceful. God, he was mesmerizing.

Felicity got up and squirted some bottled water into her mouth. She swished the cool liquid around for no other reason than it allowed her to focus on something other than Oliver Queen’s body for a total of ten seconds. And then she couldn’t look away any longer.

Most days she ignored the marks she saw regularly and never asked about. Today, though, she couldn’t help but stare. His entire upper body was coated in a variety of scars, knife wounds along his abdomen, bullet wounds in his shoulder, and burns on his lower back that never healed properly. So many scars, each one a painful secret.

But Oliver never divulged more than was minimally necessary. He almost never talked about anything personal. All she knew she’d acquired via John Diggle or office rumors. She knew he had been a soldier, serving in Afghanistan on his third tour, when a surprise landmine cost him his sight. John had been there. He said Oliver was lucky the explosion hadn’t cost him more. Though he never really admitted to it, Felicity sensed that John had probably saved his life that day.

And then of course there was the other  _incident_  from five years ago. She’d been able to find a little bit in his records that wasn’t above her clearance level (and therefore strictly  _un_ hackable). Agent Queen had been working heavily in the field with one Agent Sara Lance. For nearly a year, the two had gone undercover in Russia, posing as a married couple. But then something happened to Sara. No one, except perhaps the elusive Queen family, knew exactly how the mission went south so quickly or how Sara’s life ended so abruptly.

“Talk to me, Felicity,” he said suddenly, his glistening chest heaving from the exercise.

Felicity jumped. “I’m sorry?” she asked distractedly, her gaze focused on his abs.

He shook his head as he approached, re-invading her personal space with the attitude of a greek god. “You haven’t said anything for a while. Something must be going on in that brain of yours.”

It startled her that he knew her so well already, meanwhile she’d barely made a dent in the endless litany of questions that was Oliver Queen. She was supposed to be good at reading people. Well, she was becoming convinced that Oliver was  _un_ readable.

“What’s wrong? You can talk to me. You worried about the op for tonight?” he reached out to stroke her arms, an act that had slowly become his signature comfort move for her. And she didn’t really want to think about just how much she enjoyed the feel of his hands on her skin.

“No. I mean, yeah, a little. But I’m always nervous before a mission. Even though I know this one’s fairly straightforward. It’s barely a 5 on the difficulty scale,” she huffed.

He stepped forward, removing practically any space existing between them. A strange blend of concern and amusement clouded his expression. “Never underestimate the mission, Felicity. It’s always the easy ones that catch you by surprise.”

“Is that what happened with Sara?”

As soon as the words escaped her lips, she regretted them. The sheer agony that washed over him was enough to make her want to rewind and start the whole conversation over again.

He took a shaking step backward, dropping his hands.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—” She sighed, shutting her eyes and running a hand over her head.

An uncomfortable tension hung between them for a while. Felicity turned to go when Oliver spoke up, his voice hoarse with pain. “It was my fault.” Felicity spun back around. She watched Oliver visibly gulp as he stared into oblivion. “What happened to Sara...was my fault. I was reckless, and she paid the price for it.”

Cautiously, Felicity came over to his side, running her hand down his arm. “Oliver, you don’t owe me an explanation. You can tell me when you’re ready.”

His head turned in her general direction, his eyes hovering along the outline of her frame. He was getting better at looking at her without actually looking at her. He turned his body so they were standing toe-to-toe again. “Felicity, you’re a thousand times more stubborn than Sara ever was. As your partner, it’s my job to make sure you’re safe.”

“I know.”

“I don’t think you do. Felicity, there are things that I’ve done that...if you knew, you’d see me differently.”

Felicity smiled, rubbing his arm. “Well, you shouldn’t worry about that, cause you’ll never know  _how_  I see you.”

He sighed a laugh.

"You can talk to me, too,” she said, taking his hand. “You will never lose me by telling me the truth.”

He exhaled, his whole body sagging with relief. Then he pressed their foreheads together and ran his fingers through her hair. "Then let’s keep talking. Cause I  _never_ want to lose you."

Those piercing blue eyes were so close to hers, that for a second she felt maybe he saw her. Felicity suddenly wished he  _could_ see her, to recognize her distinct features on sight and not touch, to know the color of her hair from memory and not having read it in her file. And it was then that she  _knew_. She just knew she loved him, as more than her partner and friend. More than anyone she’d ever met. And yet they could never be together. This job was just too complicated. A relationship forged in a place where secrets crowded in from every direction, threatening to suffocate its victims, would never last. This place was like a cancer, Oliver had said; it would tear them apart. And Felicity couldn’t risk losing him. Their friendship was just too precious to her.

So she allowed herself to love him in secret, watching his face change when she walked into his office. Whenever she was on a mission, she missed him, missed his laugh reserved especially for her, missed the way he tipped his head as he listened to her. And then there were  _moments_  where she wondered if he felt the same. His whole body would turn as his concentration became fixated on her babbles. His hand would linger on her arm for just a second longer than necessary as she helped guide him in the field. During target practice, he would inch closer, pushing his chest to her back, his fingers fitting so perfectly in between hers around the gun.

Everything changed the night of the explosion in Maryland. It was supposed to be a just a simple meet, a drop off and pick up. Except the target had planted a bomb they’d somehow missed. As usual, Oliver had been guiding Felicity over the comms, directing her steps…and yet his carelessness had led her right into the mouth of hell.

He heard the whole thing. She screamed just before the sound went out. Oliver yanked the comm out of his ear, leaning back against the chair as his whole universe warped. Oliver thought he understood darkness. He  _lived_  in darkness. But that was nothing compared to the rising waves of pitch black currently drowning him from all directions. He felt like he’d never breath again.  _It should have been me._ He tuned out the world for the next four, eight, ten hours.... He heard nothing, he remembered nothing other than the pounding silence and plaguing solitude as he waited for the news he really didn’t want to come. If they never found her body...well then she could still be alive  _somewhere_ , right?

At the eleventh hour, Oliver Queen started to breathe again. They had found Agent Smoak. She was alive. Oliver was barely out of the building, when John offered to drive him to the hospital she was being taken to.

And then he waited again, pacing up and down the hallway, running his hands along the wall, memorizing where the fire extinguishers and exits were. Some military training just never left you. Plotting exit strategies was how Oliver coped these days. When that was done, he started pestering the nurses for information. He was far too tired and far too  _in agony_  to try his usual tactic of smooth-talking charmer. Instead, he ended up just yelling at whoever didn’t give him the direct answers he sought, which caused more harm than he’d originally intended. But frankly, Oliver was just too exhausted to care at this point. If his best friend was dying he needed to know, so he could figure out how to  _live_  without half himself anymore.

Finally, the doctor came and told him she was going to make it. She was out right now, but they had stabilized her. Oliver felt all the air flush out of his body, only to be shoved back in again with new vibrancy. Breathing suddenly wasn’t so hard anymore. One of the nurses brought him to her room, and Oliver settled into a chair next to her bed, grabbing her hand, running his thumb over the tape keeping the IVs in.

He listened to her gentle breaths and the steady chime of the heart monitor, counting each and every precious heartbeat Felicity still had to offer this world.

“I owe you an apology,” came a voice from across the room by the door.

Oliver stirred, leaning forward, but kept his grip on Felicity’s hand firm. “And for which sin are you apologizing this time, Mom?”

Moira Queen sighed as she entered the room. “When Walter made you Felicity’s handler, I’ll admit, I had my concerns.”

He laughed once without humor, his smile turning sardonic. “That’s one way of putting it.”

“I was afraid that...that she would be another Sara,” she admitted, coming to stand alongside his chair. “I’m sorry if not wanting to see my son go through that kind of pain again makes me a bad person, but a mother can’t help feeling certain things for her child.”

Oliver remained solemnly silent. He just kept rubbing his thumb around in circles along Felicity’s smooth skin. Moira watched this simple action with intent. She walked over to the farside wall and pulled another chair around the bed to sit next to her son. “But Oliver, I was wrong. I can see that now. She’s...she’s not at all like Sara, is she?”

For the first time since he’d heard his mother’s voice, Oliver let his mask drop. “No. She’s not like anyone.”

“And you love her.” It wasn’t a question.

Startled, Oliver turned to look in the direction his mom’s voice had come from.

“Oh, darling.” He heard the sympathetic smile in her voice. He felt a hand rest over his free one. “We may keep secrets for a living, but I’m still your mother. And there are some things even the CIA can’t breed out of people. Love is the most powerful emotion—”

“And that makes it the most dangerous. I know, Mom.”

“Well, I’ve been thinking Oliver...perhaps I was wrong about that. I know I’ve always said that the agency comes first in this family, but maybe it’s time to try a different approach. I know  _you_  never need anyone, but maybe you need  _her_  more than you need to be a spy. Having Walter in my life.... After I lost your father, I never thought I could find someone to make me happy again. But I did. And now I can’t imagine my life without him.”

Oliver frowned. “So you’re saying I can have both?”

“You never know unless you try.”

“I’m afraid it’ll change everything.” His voice was barely a whisper.

“Oh, sweetheart, it will. But maybe that’s exactly what you need. Besides, I’ve seen the way she looks at you.”

He shook his head. “Like the damaged goods that I am?”

“Oh, my boy.” Moira cupped his jaw with her palm, rubbing his stubble before she leaned in to kiss his cheek. “You may be blind, but you’re not  _that_  blind.”

Agent Smoak was to spend the next two weeks recovering. She was not, under any circumstances, to return to work early. Doctor’s orders. Likewise, Agent Queen received a direct “order” from the head of the DPD herself to take the next two weeks off as well.

The night of day one, Oliver knocked on Felicity’s door. “Hey, Smoak, you in there?” he called.

Felicity playfully pulled open the door. Crossing her arms and legs, she leaned against the wooden post for far too long.

“See anything you like, Smoak?” Olive asked, a warm grin already plastered on his face.

Felicity laughed and practically jumped into his arms. He laughed with her, spinning them around a few times.

When he grew serious once more, he carried her into the apartment, planting her back on the ground right in front of him. He didn’t remove his arms from her back though.

“Felicity, do you remember when I said that...in order to do what we do, you have to think about one positive thing you want most and just focus on that?”

Felicity nodded. “Yeah, I remember. You said it’s like blowing out candles on a cake. To not overthink it.”

He sighed. “I was wrong.”

She frowned. “Oliver, what do you mean?”

"I mean that trick doesn’t work for me. Not anymore."

"Why not?"

"Because the person I worry about and the positive thing I want most...are the same.”

Felicity gasped. "Oh." Her heart was banging against the walls of her chest, trying to jump out of her. It was too wonderful to be real. She could hardly believe it....

And yet he was already leaning down, closing the gap between their lips. “Do you understand?”

"Yes,” she breathed just before he kissed her. Felicity clung to his shirt, kissing him back, meeting his passion with her own. He poured all devotion he’d been holding back for so long into this one embrace. They should stop, she told herself. Anytime now. This was dangerous. And yet Felicity had never felt so whole, so much like herself. He was gentle with her, mindful of her injuries. And Felicity was beginning to understand what all the hype was about. Oliver was  _good_  at this. When she felt the mattress pressing into her back, she knew it was all over. He crawled over body and smiled brightly down at her like he had that day on the mats. She couldn’t fight this, and he didn’t seem to want to fight it anymore either.

"You’ve been holding out on me, Agent," she teased, pulling at his collar and leaning up to meet his lips again.

Agent Smoak didn’t know if the CIA was really the right place for her, and she didn’t know what the future held for her and Agent Queen. But she did know two things: she was in love with her best friend, and this was going to be the greatest two weeks of their lives.

 


End file.
